


am i just afraid of loving? (or am i not the loving kind?)

by whalebur



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Slight fluff, Slow Burn, This was made for shippers if you show it to the cc’s I’ll break your kneecaps, Trans Male Character, Yearning, because theyre fucking idiots, george and dream ruin fundys life in one fell swoop, its only really mentioned tho because the fic isnt focused on that, they share one braincell and choose not to use it, touch-starved!fundy, trans boy!fundy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:35:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28365522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalebur/pseuds/whalebur
Summary: The day they showed up, Fundy was gardening. He’s been sprucing up his house for days, travelling out of the Badlands to find the perfect flowers, take them and put them back on his front lawn. Despite his usual plans of a big house of crazy proportions, the house is small, really just a cottage with some nice decor. The flowers really add to it, he thinks, and no one shows up to bother him but Niki, and she isn’t even a bother. It’s nice to have her sweet words of encouragement as she sees the garden grow with flower after flower. Fundy had been searching for certain types of flowers that only appeared in certain places, and was set on finding blue orchids for his window planters. Still, Fundy was working with tulips, the soft dirt beneath his fingers getting under nails he knew he’d have to scrub later in the shower. Gardening made him relaxed.Dream and George, however, did not.When George's houses are destroyed, Dream makes the grand plan to move in with a certain fox, but Fundy refuses to believe that a godlike man and a little psychopath would ever have interest in someone like him.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy, Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy/GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Floris | Fundy/GeorgeNotFound
Comments: 26
Kudos: 290





	1. Chapter 1

The day they showed up, Fundy was gardening. He’d been sprucing up his house for days, travelling out of the Badlands to find the perfect flowers, take them and put them back on his front lawn. Despite his usual plans of a big house of crazy proportions, the house is small, really just a cottage with some nice decor. The flowers really add to it, he thinks, and no one shows up to bother him but Niki, and she isn’t even a bother. It’s nice to have her sweet words of encouragement as she sees the garden grow with flower after flower. Fundy had been searching for certain types of flowers that only appeared in certain places, and was set on finding blue orchids for his window planters. Still, Fundy was working with tulips, the soft dirt beneath his fingers getting under nails he knew he’d have to scrub later in the shower. Gardening made him relaxed.

Dream and George, however, did not.

Fundy had heard that they had been forced out of the home that belonged to George. Something about Dream already being homeless constantly and George inviting him in, someone blowing up both George’s vacation home as well as his regular one. It was so far out that Fundy really didn’t care when he heard, simply sipping his tea as Niki told him that the place had been blown up in a fit of rage. Fundy said he wouldn’t be surprised if it had been one of George’s friends that had taken a TNT joke too far, but Niki had said that they hadn’t planned on rebuilding it and that George had been crushed. Fundy felt bad, sure, he knew what losing homes felt like, but it was just a house. They had the resources to build it again, and George was just a drama queen.

A drama queen who had apparently made a grand plan to move in with Fundy.

Fundy wasn’t happy to see George bounding up the road with Dream idly walking behind him, hands shoved into his pockets. At least Sapnap wasn’t around, too, then it’d be a huge shitfest where they’d bicker like children until one of them exploded and yanked out a sword or axe and started taking potshots. Fundy was above violence most times, but it seemed the gang of local idiots and tyrants loved running around and slapping people until they popped out of existence, only to wake up in their beds. And repeat. He narrowed his eyes when George waved at them and Dream’s creepy smile of a mask glinted with something, as if the thing was sentient with its own emotions. Fundy swore it got bigger when Dream was around him, the smile on the mask. He swore he could sometimes see it blink or relax as Dream would talk, or notice something. Fucking creepy.

“Fundy! Hey!” George said in a chipper tone. Fundy went to pack up his things quickly, going for the door. 

“No. Nope.” The fox’s words were shouted over his shoulder. He knew what they were going to ask. Fuck, where was his spade? He couldn’t leave it out here-- it’d get rusty in the rain. George and Dream neared closer and Fundy started to panic, trying to move faster. “Go! No-- you aren’t--” They were running at him now, as if they knew he was going to lock them out and refuse entry, and Fundy yanked out a diamond sword he had in his inventory, stopping the two in their tracks. “Get off my property, I know exactly what you want and the answer is no.” 

“That’s a little uncalled for,” Dream said smoothly as his mask almost looked… sad? Jesus Christ, Fundy needed more sleep.

“You don’t even know what we want, Fundy. We could want anything!” George said, though Dream was already pulling a netherite sword out when Fundy stood there with his own diamond blade. The mask looked smug. Fucking _assholes_. Fundy lowered the sword.

“You are not living with me, I don’t care if you two are homeless. I know that as soon as I let you in you’ll make yourselves comfortable and never leave. On top of that, don’t think I forgot how you orchestrated a whole exiling of one of my family members, Dream. The answer is no.” Fundy found his spade and went to grab it off the ground, but George was close enough that he got it first and jumped back quickly so Fundy couldn’t snatch it away. He smirked at George and held the spade in his hands, studying it.

“You’ve been gardening, that’s cute,” the shorter boy said with that stupid look on his face. Fundy didn’t hate George, but he preferred Dream a whole lot more to the guy who screamed and spoke gibberish when he was frustrated… even if Dream had fucked him over royally more than once. George was a whole mess, and so was Dream, but Dream was a cool and calculated hot mess. George was just a burnt pan of a hot mess, one that you had to spend ages cleaning only for the pan to be ruined. Every time George did something, the effects came long after. First sleeping through the election, then being stupid and losing his crown, and now having his house blown up so he had to show up at Fundy’s. Fundy knew he shouldn’t have been so civil and allowed George to think he was just welcome to show up. Granted, he had invited Dream to come see the cottage when he had gotten a whisper from the man and had gotten excited at the idea of a hot guy paying attention to him but he didn’t want _George_ there, too. Neither did he want Dream to invite himself to move in. This was supposed to be Fundy Soot’s house, not the Fundy-Dream-George house. They weren’t boys in college, they were idiots who would kill each other if left alone long enough.

“Gardening is calming,” Fundy sighed, then hardened his features, “and you two are ruining the calm. Get out.”

“I like to think I give a calming effect on most people,” Dream said, raising his sword a little bit as the mask seemed to grin brightly. Smug asshole. Fundy rolled his eyes, and went to take his spade, but George pulled his arm back, making Fundy slip forward until he was basically face to face with the brunette. George’s eyes were playful, and mischievous. But very pretty, like pools of brown, dark as rum. They had little glints to them, a shine, and…

A heat ran straight up Fundy’s neck and to his cheeks, and he shoved George away from him suddenly, who squawked and stumbled back, only for Dream to catch his friend and stand him upright. God, the height difference between them was insane. Even Fundy who prided himself on being a good height was smaller than Dream with his tall frame. It really gave a menacing feeling whenever Dream or someone evil and tall, maybe say with pink hair and a large crown, stood over Fundy. George yanked himself out of Dream’s arms with a huff and pointed the spade at Fundy accusingly.

“That is ASSAULT, you know--”

“You’re on my property, idiot,” Fundy growled in return. George looked around, then thought of something. He glanced over at Dream and spoke with a grin on his face.

“Dream, don’t you think it’s about time you expanded your empire?” he said, nudging his friend.

The mask stared back at George, and the smile once again seemed to grow and become more powerful. “You know, I think it is, George, that seems like a great plan--”

“No, no, no--” Fundy immediately said, shoving himself up in Dream’s face. He really had his father’s self-preservation skills. “You are not claiming Dry Waters just so you can move in with me. No. Don’t even think about it. I am not some child you can punish because I disobeyed you, you prick.” 

“I’m thinking about it,” Dream said cooly, the mask’s odd gaze looking down on Fundy.

“Well don’t!” Fundy shouted as George walked forward, gazing at the flowers and going down to touch one. Fundy snapped his head over. “Get away from those! You’re going to hurt them!”

George looked up, offended. “I’m not a brute like Dream, I can admire your flowers.”

This was a disaster, and Fundy made a frustrated shout. It was like dealing with two somewhat attractive high school bullies, but in reality it was two homeless sociopaths. Fundy was just waiting for when they started griefing to get their way. “Why can’t you two build a house? You have the capability to do that!”

“You know, I’ve built so many houses in my days,” Dream said, planting his sword’s tip in the ground and leaning on the handle. “It’s time I had one pre-built. Saves me the hassle.” Fundy made another noise of distress, and then looked to George who was still _touching his flowers_ and Dream who looked so smug even with a mask on. George’s soft features admiring his flowers, Dream’s strong forearms shown off from the way his sleeves were rolled up. George. Dream. Fuck.

“If I let you stay here, do you promise to _leave_ at some point?” Fundy grit out, slow and painful as he gave up the fight. Maybe they’d at least do some housework for him. George straightened himself and nodded quickly.

“Of course. We aren’t permanent residents,” he said with a little laugh. “We’re only doing this because everyone else locked their doors when Dream and I showed up together, and Sapnap said that we couldn’t live with him because he was afraid of us taking his stuff and losing it. Personally, his house is like a big chest of items that are really free for the taking, I don’t know why he’s getting so mad about it now. Some best friend he is.” Fundy blinked. So he was inviting two stupid, sometimes murderous, thieves into his house. His father would be so proud.

“Well, Fundy, I’m so glad you’re allowing us into your home.” Dream moved as he talked, coming up behind Fundy and resting a hand on his back due to Fundy keeping his eye on George and the flowers. Not the flowers. Fundy immediately stiffened and only felt his heated face worsen as the strong fingers pushed into his shirt, having taken off the full jacket in the heat of the day, in the heat of gardening. Fundy glanced up at Dream, and the man’s smile was seen just below his mask. Fundy focused on those lips for a moment, seeing a soft scar on the bottom of them, the way they were a tanned pink of sorts, and then swallowed and looked at the ground, regretting every life choice he had made up to his point, and _especially_ this one.

“I hate you both,” Fundy grumbled, Dream’s hand disappearing as he headed to the front door and opened it, George following suit.

Great.

\---

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” George asked after he had made himself comfortable on Fundy’s couch with Dream in the kitchen looking through the fridge. Fundy glanced to the noise in his small kitchen, his food supply being raided, and he groaned as he realized he now had two extra people to feed. He didn’t want them here, but by god if he wasn’t going to be a good host.

“Well, you can’t just put a bed wherever you want,” Fundy explained as Dream appeared with a bottle of milk, the cap in one hand and his mask shoved up enough to reveal a line of milk on his upper lip. Fundy stared at him, pissed. Dream looked down to the milk, then held it out to Fundy as an offering.

“Did you want some?” he asked.

Fundy snatched the milk from him, then grabbed the cap and pushed it back on the bottle, glaring at Dream who went to wipe his lip with his forearm. “If you two are staying here, there are going to be rules. One of those rules is to not be a pig with my things. Got it?” Dream pushed his mask back on properly and stared at Fundy, the mask’s features challenging Fundy. Suddenly, George laughed and it broke the tension, the two of them looking over.

“I get it, because-- because Technoblade’s a piglin. And he’s your uncle. That’s funny,” the brunette giggled.

“First of all, Technoblade is my godfather, not my uncle. Second of all, my other uncle is a man who got kicked out for no reason by _your_ best friend.” Fundy looked to Dream with a glare in his eyes, only to have a mask stare back. He finally sighed heavily. “Whatever.” He looked to Dream again, then down at the bottle of milk in his hand. 

“I thought you were over that,” Dream said with a hint of humor to his voice, “this is just how governments work, Fundy.” God, Dream was stupid. You don't get over that kind of thing overnight. It takes time.

Fundy was probably going to have to get milk that was specifically for Dream just so the boy wouldn’t taint their milk supply with his cooties, or whatever. Maybe he should just let Dream have this bottle and go find milk the cows tomorrow morning. A bright idea came to him, suddenly, and he shoved the bottle into Dream’s hands, getting into his face a bit in the process. “You’re in charge of the farm, since you wanted to live here. You’re going to clean the stables, harvest, and take care of the animals. Got it?” Dream frowned, and went to speak with Fundy still in his space, but Fundy turned to George. “And you are going to clean the house and stay out of the way. If you break anything, you’re replacing it. Do you understand?”

George scoffed as Dream’s mask took on a pissy expression. “That isn’t fair!” the brunette whined as he sat up straighter, having laid back a bit on Fundy’s couch. “We’re two little homeless boys… refugees, even! We’re looking for sanctuary!” 

Dream snickered, making an ominous voice that practically echoed through the room. “ _Saaaaanctuaryyyyy_ ,” he purred, seeming like he was trying to imitate a classic movie and failing horribly, causing Fundy to push his hands into his face and try to maintain composure. Why did everything always turn out so awful?

“Shut up,” he finally sighed, and then straightened himself and looked to George again. “If you’re staying here, you have to help out. It’s only fair.”

“Don’t come crying to me when Dream murders all your animals,” George said with a little grin.

“If he does that, I’ll kill him myself.” Fundy’s voice was steel, but suddenly he felt a chest against his back, and Dream’s mask was right next to his ear. He could feel Dream’s warmth, all encompassing, and he could feel hot breath on his ear. Dream’s hands were on his hips, seemingly having nowhere to go, and Fundy stiffened completely, his mind short-circuiting from the contact and what came next.

“ _Is that so_?” Dream spoke into his ear. Fundy’s breath felt like it had been punched out of him. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t. All he could feel was the hot breath, George watching him with a smirk, Dream’s soft hoodie against what skin of Fundy’s was visible. “ _I’d like to see you try_.” All at once, Fundy moved into action and he shoved Dream quickly, storming out the front door as George’s loud laughter and Dream’s wheezing followed behind him. Those fucking assholes, they had some weird power play going. He didn’t know why he was shocked-- he knew they would. He stormed off for a long while, stomping around on the dirt, when a message popped into his view, the words bright in front of his vision.

**Dream whispers to you: sorry, it’s just fun to mess with you**

Fundy groaned as the words faded and he angrily got a message back.

**You whisper to Dream: you’re a prick**

There was a delay and new words appeared.

**Dream whispers to you: you love me anyways, lol**

Fundy had to cover his face after reading the message, a strong heat in his face as he let out a scream.

\---

Fundy came back that night with a ton of new flowers-- he had found the blue orchids, but only a few, so he had to plant them and harvest them, slowly expanding his flower army. He was exhausted, though, and he had nearly forgotten what awaited him at home. The lights were on and he didn’t remember leaving them on, and then it hit him.

George and Dream.

They were still there.

Fundy narrowed his eyes and walked forward, opening the door and blinking at the sight before him. George was in his jacket. George was wearing his jacket and Dream was fucking around with the jukebox, practically trying to force the record to work instead of being careful. George looked good in his jacket, though it was much too big on him. The collar was popped up and it covered his pale neck just enough, but his collarbones were shown off in the white tank top he was wearing, having ditched his shirt-- the place was miserably hot most days, Fundy wasn’t shocked he’d done it. Fundy couldn’t help but stare, his eyes focusing on the collarbones, the way they were just slightly shown off, and the way his jacket was on George, his scent on George, or rather George’s on him. He’d have to wash the jacket and get the scent marking back on it, his ears flicking in irritation. 

“Get out of my jacket. Now.” George seemed to suddenly notice him, and he grinned brightly, eager to fuck with Fundy more than he already had.

“I think I look good,” the brunette said with a glint of _something_ in his eyes. Fundy had to pick himself up from the collarbones to his eyes. Was this it, now? He was getting into literal human bones instead of something like eyes or hands or whatever it is people who liked people were into? What the fuck was wrong with him?

“I think you look _really_ good,” Dream commented, making George roll his eyes as red crept onto his pale features. Fundy growled.

“Shut up, Dream,” both of them said at the same time, then shared a look of shock. Wow, a bonding moment for two idiots. Fundy tore his gaze away, unable to look at George’s stupid, brown eyes for any longer. This was so dumb, why had he agreed to this? To think Fundy had just built his home, found somewhere for himself, and now it was just being taken over. Again. Same shit, different day, apparently.

Dream cleared his throat, mask still on, and he went back to fiddling with the jukebox. “This thing sucks, dude-- how long have you had it?”

“A while,” Fundy said as he watched George start to take off the jacket. Oh, god, no, he couldn’t watch this. He couldn’t. As soon as George’s arms started to make themselves out of the sleeves, Fundy moved and pushed past him, ignoring the loud _hey!_ he got and moved over to Dream. He looked at Dream messing with the box, playing with the dials on it, and he slapped his hands away. “Just let me do it, you’re obviously not a professional like me.”

Dream hovered beside him and Fundy felt the man’s gaze pierce into his core. God, why was Dream such a little creep? He quickly tried to get the jukebox in working order, but when the sound came out scratchy and contorted, George came over. He was in only his tank top and jeans now, hovering so close that Fundy’s keen senses picked up on his scent. Vanilla and pine, an odd combination, with a slight hint of sweat. Dream smelled like gunpowder and dirt, but it was almost comforting, like Fundy had known that’s what he would smell like when he met him. They were both always smelling like boys, though, and Fundy had noticed that as someone who hadn’t been physically born a boy, he noticed it a lot better than people who didn’t. People like that always had that glint of testosterone in them, a strong scent that Fundy had to get through injections, not naturally. He could smell them, though, and Dream leaned in closer to inspect the jukebox. With the way his hood was down and how close he was while bent over, his hair brushed against Fundy’s cheek. Fundy felt his skin have a jolt go through it, but couldn’t bring himself to move away. Maybe it was being alone out in Dry Waters with only Niki and random visitors for too long, but he felt himself moving closer, breathing in the scent, until…

“Fundy, are you smelling Dream’s hair?” 

Fundy snapped back out of the daydream he was in, and a strong heat rose up his cheeks and neck for what felt like the hundredth time that day, his ears going erect and twitching from his anger. He didn’t mean to get angry, but George was so stupid, and now Dream was staring at him and yeah it was a little weird to smell someone’s hair but he bet Dream used nice shampoo despite being homeless and he just wanted to smell it. It wasn’t weird, foxes had a habit of sniffing things out like dogs did, and Fundy opened his mouth and made a weird squeak of a noise that chattered through his vocal cords and into the air, a sign of aggression as he looked at George with narrowed eyes, sharp teeth bared. George blinked.

“You sound like a fucking cartoon, dude,” he said blankly. Fundy forced himself not to make the noise again and glared at George, who stared back, unafraid.

“Wait,” Dream said with a wheeze of a chuckle, “do that noise again.” Did they find it funny? Seriously? Most animals would find that noise terrifying as prey knew it meant a fox was angry, that the fox would attack and rip out your throat with its dumb teeth. Fundy turned his attention to Dream and shoved him lightly, away from the jukebox while George burst into giggles.

“Do the noise again, please, Fundy?” he asked sweetly, going to reach up and touch Fundy’s ears without thinking about it, hoping petting the soft, sensitive fur and skin would illicit another noise. Fundy, instead of making his angry little noise, made a chitter and felt himself relax without meaning to. George paused but pressed in closer, petting at Fundy’s ears further. Another chitter, a squeak of a pant, and Fundy was shoving George off and stepping back, eyes wide and a look of embarrassment on his features. Dream was grinning under his mask, and he stepped closer to Fundy.

“Your ears are sensitive, huh, Fundy?” the blond asked as George laughed a bit, turning his attention back to the jukebox, as if brushing off the fact that Fundy had just melted from a simple touch to his ears. Fundy stared at Dream, and Dream grinned, just visible from where his mask didn’t cover it. “Do you hate it when people touch them, or…? You looked pretty excited just then--” 

Fundy didn’t give him time to finish, refusing to even acknowledge the fact that this hot guy with an absolute godlike body from how athletic he was was asking if he had gotten excited from his ears being touched. No. He hadn’t. It had been a reflex, and all it had felt like was a nice, warm hug of sorts. It was like when you scratched a cat under their chin or something. Fundy took off to his room, slamming the door and locking it as fast as he could. This was horrible, the worst choice he’d ever fucking made. Why were they both idiots with no boundaries? Why had George not figured out that the giant fucking ears on his head that _moved_ to pick up sound and had basically the softest fur on his body were sensitive? This was insane, absolutely insane. Why had he agreed to this? Why? 

**Dream whispers to you: Kind of a pussy move to run off when I was asking a question**

Fundy stared at the words as they faded and then new ones popped up.

**Dream whispers to you: we still don’t have a place to sleep**

God, they were stupid.

**You whisper to Dream: sleep on the couch like a normal person, you aren’t taking my bed**

A delay, and then words appeared once more.

**Dream whispers to you: That sucks cause I’m awesome to cuddle with, you’re missing out :)**

Another message followed right after that.

**Dream whispers to you: You got pretty nervous when George was wearing your jacket.**

And another.

**Dream whispers to you: Or was it something else?**

Fundy kind of wished he had died in the war, just because of how Dream was acting. He swallows and types a message out, feeling like this was the closest thing to sexting he was ever going to achieve. And it was with Dream. The guy he’d had a crush on since the war. His dad would be _so_ proud.

**You whisper to Dream: i don’t know what you’re talking about**

**Dream whispers to you: george and i have been friends forever, ive seen like every bit of him, even if I haven’t done anything with him**

Why is Dream telling him this?

**Dream whispers to you: His skin is so soft when you hold him, especially on his thighs, and his hair feels so good even though he doesn’t wash it enough. Naturally soft, ig**

_Why_ was Dream telling him this?

**Dream whispers to you: and hes really fucking pretty when he looks up at you, like he sees the stars in everyone, or something**

Fundy’s mouth was dry, not out of lust but out of fucking _yearning_ to see George look at him that way. Why was he having so many intense emotions for a guy he didn’t even like? What the fuck? What was going on? Did Dream have some mind control powers he didn’t know about? Fundy was still lost in his thoughts when another message popped up.

**Dream whispers to you: night fundy. sleep well.**

**You whisper to Dream: fuck off, dream**

Fundy’s eyes are still angry as he gets into bed and another message appears.

**Dream whispers to you: <3**

\---

Fundy dreamt the third night George and Dream had been on their little vacation, in their home away from lack of home. They hadn’t been causing too much trouble, and Dream had even gotten him a new jukebox to replace the one that constantly broke. George had started getting flowers with Fundy, and while George usually rambled to himself when doing it, he sometimes looked over while they searched and would offer a little smile. That smile killed Fundy, the way he looked so happy. Fundy could’ve sworn that was a smile he saved for Dream, but he knew he was being stupid. There was no way that GeorgeNotFound, the dude who refused to admit he even liked Dream, had a crush on some overgrown fox freak. Still, he liked to think of that smile sometimes. He liked to think of it even when he was with Dream, instructing him on farm work. Sometimes Dream would even give a lazy grin at Fundy at the same time the thoughts were plaguing him and Fundy’s brain would momentarily shut off.

He was fucked.

In the dream, Fundy was laying on a soft field, his eyes closed. The sun beamed down on him, warming his skin. He had an odd feeling in his chest in the dream, one of content and happiness. The sun was so warm, the grass so soft beneath him, and he notes that his heavy jacket isn’t on, only his undershirt and pants, the belt done tightly on them. His hips, due to his stature and body were tiny, and he always had to have the belt on as tight as possible to keep his loose pants up. Suddenly there was a noise beside him, and Fundy opened his eyes, turning his head. Dream was there, maskless, and god, he was beautiful. His green eyes gazed up at the sky, a smile on his face. His skin was a constellation of freckles, and his blond hair was out in the open, falling around his face from the fluffiness of it, from how long it was getting. Fundy wanted to reach out and touch it, but even in his best of dreams, he couldn’t. He stared awhile longer, then something pushed him to tilt his head to the other side. George laid there, glasses on the bridge of his nose as he breathed peacefully, obviously asleep. His brown locks were as tidy as ever, and Fundy’s heart ached with a horrible feeling. He looked back over to Dream, and Dream smiled.

“ _He’s pretty, isn’t he_?” 

Fundy could only nod as he went to look at George again, turning on his side to properly study George. His hands were smaller than Fundy’s own, and he reached out, carefully taking one of George’s in his own and lacing their fingers together. His heart picks up its pace as George’s eyes flutter open and he does the look Dream meant. He was looking at Fundy like he hung the stars, like he was the most amazing person ever. Fundy stared at George a little while longer, then gently pushed his nose into the man’s hair, breathing in that vanilla and pine scent. From behind him, Dream wrapped his arms around the fox hybrid and nuzzled in close to the mop of red hair he had, sighing happily. George yawned and cuddled in closer, and there were a few moments of peace, before suddenly a beeping pierced the air. It was loud, it was so loud, it was _so fucking loud_. What was going on?

Fundy snapped awake and sat up in bed with a panicked noise, then looked over to see an alarm clock beep and buzz, telling him it was time to wake up and be a real person. He shut it off with a groan and laid back in bed, eyes closing as he rubbed at his jaw and over the small bit of scruff he had. That fucking dream… the way George had looked at him… the way Dream had pointed out how pretty George was… what the fuck was wrong with him? Did really all it take was a little bit of attention and he was having emotional wet dreams where all he did was cuddle and feel loved? What the fuck was wrong with him? 

Fundy had to really push himself to get out of bed and get going. When he finally unlocked his door (something he’d been doing so the two couldn’t crawl their way in) and came into the living room, he was dressed and trying to get his shit together when he spotted Dream sitting on the couch. His head was tilted back and his mask was off, showing off those freckles, those long lashes. George’s head was in his lap, and Dream had his hand laying in George’s hair, like it was some safety blanket. Apparently they hadn’t woken up from the alarm, and Fundy stared idly for a moment, taking in the scene.

It wasn’t like he and Dream didn’t flirt, they did. They definitely did. Fundy had tried to rack up the courage to confront some feelings instead of whispering shit to Dream and praying for a response. It wasn’t a big deal, he understood why Dream wouldn’t really want a weird fox hybrid with daddy issues for a boyfriend-- not to mention the moral enemy thing-- but… God, it kind of hurt. It hurt to see him lying there with George, with his hand in George’s hair, sleeping so peacefully with _George_. The worst part about it wasn’t even that he was mad at George either. He wasn’t mad in the way he thought he’d be at least. The worst part was that he now wanted to feel George’s hair, wanted to get George to look at him that way and talk to him, brush off his compliments like he did with Dream. He wanted to be touchy with George _and_ Dream. He wanted to sit there and listen to them argue and just be content. It would never happen, though, and he instead ached as he watched George’s fingers twitch in his sleep, watched Dream shift his head, blond locks falling in front of his eyes. They were both so beautiful, and Fundy was so… _Fundy_.

He had weird teeth that were too sharp, couldn’t grow facial hair, he had too big of ears, his tail was constantly flicking or wagging like a stupid dog’s… He couldn’t see anything good about himself, and he knew damn well Dream didn’t either, that he was just fucking around and flirting with Fundy for the hell of it. It made Fundy’s heart hurt, like he was wanting something he could never have. Something that would never want him. Two people who didn’t even know what he liked, what his passions were, what he was as a person.

Fundy stared for a few moments longer, then walked along the wood floor, trying to avoid creaking boards. He hit one on accident, and the wood gave a loud squeak, making Dream’s eyes snap open. Dream looked over at Fundy, locking eyes with him, piercing green staring into dark brown. Fundy swallowed, and Dream glanced down to the figure laying next to him, fingers gently carding through George’s hair as he slept.

“What time is it…?” Dream asked in a tired voice.

“Six in the morning,” Fundy said, watching the way George moved and pushed his head into Dream’s thigh, nuzzling it in his sleep. This was like watching porn, but for people who didn’t have a love life and just yearned for affection. Dream yawned and stretched his back the best he could from the position, then looked up from George and sighed. He ran his free hand through his hair, scratching at his head and locking eyes with Fundy again. Fundy really felt like he had walked in on something horribly intimate. Something he shouldn’t be seeing. 

“You and George are pretty close, huh?” Fundy tried, though his attempt was weak. Dream’s eyes flickered down to George, then back up at Fundy.

“Pretty close, yeah,” he said, voice still groggy with sleep, “why?”

“Well, I mean-- I just noticed--” Fundy managed, having to look away from that piercing gaze. He’s seen Dream without his mask before, but this is too much. Everything is too much.

“Hey. Look at me.” It’s a command, not a request. Fundy brought his eyes back over to focus on Dream’s own, and he swallowed. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Dream smiled at him, soft and sweet, and it made Fundy’s heart leap into his throat. “You could be close with someone, too. I know people who’d kill to be with you.”

 _Don’t lie to me,_ Fundy wanted to beg, _don’t lie and say it’s you_. “Oh really?”

“Yeah. I know a couple lucky bachelors of sorts. Or one, at least.” Dream didn’t have his stupid, smug smirk on and that’s even worse. He was being disingenuous while acting like he was speaking from the heart. Fundy stared into his eyes for just a second longer, wanting to commit the color to his memory. Silence hung in the air, and Fundy swallowed again, trying to get his racing heart to calm down.

“I… I need to go… milk the cows…” he finally managed.

“Thought that was my job?” Dream asked, cocking his head with that dumb, beautiful smile.

“Wouldn’t want to disturb George. He looks pretty when he’s asleep.” Oh, why had he said that? _Why_? It just slipped out, he hadn’t meant it.

“Yeah. He does.” Dream’s voice was so lovely when it was still rough with tiredness. Fundy awkwardly went to grab his coat that was still laying on the ground from George trying it on. It reeked of him, even if he hadn’t been wearing it for very long. Fundy could smell it. “He looked good in your coat, didn’t he?” Dream’s voice is so quiet for someone as brash and unsettling as himself. It’s loving, in a way.

Fundy stares down at the coat. “Yeah, he did.”

Dream smiled again and closed his eyes. “Have fun with the cows.”

“Thanks,” Fundy replied, and then went for the front door. He took one last look at the pair, then was out the door, the scent of George still washing over him.

\---

Dream came with to collect flowers a week after his morning meeting with Fundy. Fundy was still on the search for alliums which were near impossible to find. Things had been going somewhat smoother than before, but that feeling of dread was getting worse and worse. Dream was staring at him all the time now, and so was George. It was like they were plotting something awful, some grand scheme to fuck Fundy over. Maybe it was payback just for everything that had gone on since they’d all met. Fundy wasn’t sure, and he didn’t really want to find out. All he knew was that when he woke up in the mornings, Dream would wake up with him, and then gently shake awake a sleeping George to join in, only for the shortest boy to complain that he had been sleeping and that he never got enough sleep. It was funny, considering Fundy saw George passed out in the oddest of places. He went from being curled up onto the couch, to sometimes on the carpeted flooring, to sometimes on the porch in the sun like a cat. He looked so peaceful, and Fundy hated to admit that he liked the serene expression George wore when he was passed out from some sort of chronic exhaustion. Dream had walked in on him a few times, coming in from the farm, just watching George lay there and snore. He had given Fundy a look a few times, one that Fundy couldn’t decipher. Like one of knowing.

In the present, though, George had gotten pretty good at identifying all the types of flowers, knowing most of the names even if he got tripped up on the colors. He picked up a poppy, strolling over to Dream and thrusting it out at him with a grin.

“Got you a flower,” George said proudly.

“Wow.” Dream plucked the flower from his fingers and studied it, before going to shift and push down his hook, then hummed and gently tucked the stem of the flower behind his ear, the mask staring at Fundy when he turned his head. “Am I beautiful yet?” he said in a deadpan voice.

Fundy blinked then studied the flower. “Red isn’t really your color, sorry. Also, poppies are more of a wartime flower, they mean peace for the future.” His dad’s grave is covered in poppies every time he visits. Fundy pushed that thought far out of his mind in favor of looking for more flowers. Dream clucked his tongue and went up behind Fundy as he walked, trailing closely. Fundy noticed after a second that George was close by, too, and he sighed.

“Can I help you two?” he asked with an irritated voice. 

“If I’m not beautiful, life isn’t worth it,” Dream said dramatically, “we need to find flowers that accentuate my features.”

“Your features are usually hidden by a mask, Dream,” Fundy said with a frown.

“Just because you’re wearing clothes, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t wear underwear, too,” George said with ease. Fundy blinked as Dream burst into wheezy laughter. They really weren’t the smartest, but they were much nicer than most of L’Manberg, or at least what was left of it. It seemed that as time went on, people became a lot meaner to Fundy. Maybe it was because his dad was crazy, his uncle was also crazy, and his other uncle was in exile slowly becoming crazy. Fundy rolled his eyes as he went back to searching for flowers, George and Dream talking to each other in the background. Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder, stopping him, and Dream spun him around, grinning at him as he held a rose in his teeth, his mask shoved up into his hair. He wiggled his eyebrows, and Fundy tried to wipe the red that had seeped onto his face while George laughed loudly.

“Do I entice you, Fundy?” Dream asked from around the rose’s stem.

“You entice me to want to hurt you, if that’s what you’re asking,” Fundy said, trying to get himself to sound scary, but really it only came out as a little hushed whisper. Dream’s brows went up at the tone of Fundy’s voice, and his grin only brightened. Fundy looked to George for help, but he was really just staring at Dream. The brunette’s eyes darted over to Fundy, and he saw that look, that star struck look. Even when he was looking at the fox instead of his best friend, he had that look. Fundy felt like he could fucking faint from one look, which was awful, absolutely awful. “Stop staring at me like that,” he snapped, ears flattening as he tried to wrench himself free from Dream’s grasp, away from the rose and the implication.

“Staring at you like what?” George asked, faking offense. “I’m just admiring people-- I’m not gay or anything, but I can admire.”

“He admires men all the time,” Dream said solemnly around the flower in his mouth, “it’s hard to take him out in public, he just goes for it--”

“Dream!” George shouted as Fundy felt that dizzy feeling of affection rush through his core. What the fuck was happening? He shoved Dream off and yanked the rose from his mouth, tossing it to the side.

“Take this seriously, this is serious,” he hissed at the taller boy. Dream raised his hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay…” He sighed, clearing his throat, then spoke with that same beautiful, lazy smile. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you liked that image of me, that you like being close to me and having me in your face.”

Fundy’s mouth went dry.

“Couldn’t be that, though.”

George nodded, going to stand beside him. “There’s no way Fundy’s into you, Dream, he’s just touch-starved because he’s out here all alone. Isn’t it good we gave you some company, Fundy? So you’re not so lonely? You like us here, right?” 

Fundy actually hated it, but all he could do was dumbly nod in agreement.

“See? Aren’t you glad you let us in,” Dream was getting closer again. “Let us into your home and heart?”

Is this what an anxiety attack felt like?

“You’re kind of cute when you look shocked, Fundy,” George said with a little laugh. “Your eyes get so wide.”

“He’s kind of cute in general, I mean look at those ears.” Dream reached out to touch one as he spoke, and Fundy melted all over again, just as he had with George. His hands instinctively went out and braced themselves on Dream’s hoodie as a calloused thumb swiped over the fur of his left ear. “They’re so sensitive, right, Fundy? That’s what you told me, right?” Fundy couldn’t process this shit, and Dream continued to rub at his ears, pulling him in a bit closer. Where George wasn’t confident in touching him, Dream was. George was, however, just fine with standing back at watching Fundy crumble from barely anything. Fundy made a soft chitter without meaning to, and at George’s little _awww_ , he shoved Dream off and stormed off, stomping much harder than needed as Dream called after him.

“Aw, we were just getting somewhere!” Fundy heard over his shoulder. Asshole.

He walked a little further, absolutely overwhelmed by the fact that he let himself be so vulnerable in front of Dream and George. His ears were sensitive, and they knew that. Why the fuck would they do that to him? There was no way it was some lovey dovey crap, it was definitely to mess with him. There was no way Dream and George actually liked him-- no one was like that with him. They treated him like an add-on to their own messed up situation, and therefore he was a problem. 

Fundy yanked a flower from a bush with too much force, taking leaves and most of the stem with it. He paused and looked down at the flower, a peony. Peonies meant romance, a happy marriage, and compassion. Figures this was the stupid flower he found-- someone up above was mocking him. Fundy tossed it aside and went underneath a tree, scrubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms and trying not to freak out. What was going on, why were George and Dream so hellbent on making him feel like this? The joke wasn’t funny anymore-- in reality it never had been. He didn’t even notice the angry tears that had appeared and the way his shoulders shook until it was too late. He was always the butt of every joke, ever since he was born. Had someone cursed him, had it been a family thing or a hateful god? Was he doomed to be unloved and angry about it, having to shut up and be quiet and deal with everyone fucking with him? Why weren’t things fair? Why couldn’t Dream and George like him? Why couldn’t he just sit there in bed with them and pretend he wasn’t living in the middle of nowhere with people who showed up to call him names or ask him for things. He hated it, he hated it, he _hated_ it.

Fundy had his face buried in his knees by the time footsteps showed up, legs pulled to his chest. He snapped his head up to yell at either Dream or George for showing back up to taunt him more, but softened when he saw who it was.

Niki.

God, thank Christ for Niki.

“Fundy, are you okay?” she asked softly, going to step closer. Fundy sniffed and nodded, going to speak, but unable to make words with how his throat felt like it was closing up. She frowned, and went to sit beside him at the base of the tree. “I saw George and Dream outside your house, do they live with you now?”

Then he remembered Niki and her issues with Dream, and therefore George. Fundy paused, trying to word it carefully. “They invited themselves in, I didn’t have a choice. They just showed up and won’t leave--”

Niki’s soft features were angry, and she sighed heavily, going to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Even when we try to go somewhere safe, they always have to ruin it.”

Fundy nodded, though he couldn’t say he was agreeing for the same reasons. Not at all, actually. Part of him knew that if he revealed that Dream and George had been mercilessly flirting with him to make him uncomfortable, Niki would kill them. He swallowed, and thought about it. “They’re basically harassing me, trying to make me as uncomfortable as possible, it’s awful.” Fine, he’d sicc the dogs on them and get them out of his house. 

Niki gave a noise of anger, frustration. “I can get Ranboo to come take care of them, seriously, I do not mind.” Fundy had to make the choice of actually getting rid of them, and he hesitantly nodded. A crashing came through the tree line, and George came bursting through with a bright smile. He noticed Fundy first, teary eyed and sniffling, and then Niki, watching a sword suddenly pop into her hand. Dream appeared seconds after, and his smile fell when he realized what was going on. Dream quickly straightened his mask over his face, the smile looking angry.  


“You think you can take us on?” Dream asked, looking to Niki, who narrowed her eyes.

“I know who can,” she replied with, “maybe not me. But someone else. You two invited yourselves into my friend’ s home and he is crying in a forest because of you two. You never stay out of things, do you?”

George glanced down at the blade of the sword, then a smile crossed his face. Dream took out a crossbow without thinking about it and Niki froze. Dream took aim, the mask looking absolutely hungry for Niki’s blood.

“Don’t worry-- you’ll probably go to Heaven,” Dream said in a cool tone.

“Wait--” Fundy tried.

The arrow was fired. Niki dodged it and came running in as George drew his diamond pick. He didn’t have a sword with him, but he could improvise. Niki had really just taken on two psychopaths. Fundy watched in horror as George lunged at her, and she slid under him, kicking him in the stomach and winding him. Dream shot another arrow, only realizing that it wasn’t good to use a crossbow when it hit the wrong target.

“WHAT THE FUCK, DREAM?!” George screamed as he looked at the arrow in his arm.

“I’m sorry!” Dream shouted back in a panic, going to reload. Niki took this time to slam the sword into George’s chest. George gasped in pain, hissing loudly as Dream panicked further.

“George!” Fundy said, running over. “Niki, no, I didn’t want them dead!”

“Dream, you got me fucking killed--” George hissed. His body popped out of existence and Dream stared at the blood that was left there.

“Don’t worry, he’ll just respawn,” Dream said, although he sounded very sad, like he was sad for killing George despite how many times he had done it.

Niki moved quickly while Dream was focused on mourning and jabbed him in the chest, too. It sunk in, and Dream looked up from the ground to her. He smiled. “I don’t die that easily, Niki,” he said as his hands moved. They wrenched the diamond sword out of his chest and he allowed it to fall to the ground coated in blood, stepping closer, the mask looking absolutely powerful with its smile. “Funny that you think you can kill a god,” Dream’s voice was low, “ _funny that you think you can play a trick on those who control you_.” Niki stepped back in horror, and Fundy stepped in quickly.

“You hurt her, and I’m never letting you and George come to Dry Waters again.” Dream snapped his head over, the cold eyes of the mask piercing into Fundy. He fought back a shudder, and Dream growled, a growl of frustration.

“She killed George,” Dream snarled.

“Too bad. Pack it up, we’re going.” Fundy refused to let his voice waver, and Dream glanced to Niki, then sighed. He turned on his heel and walked off, Fundy and Niki watching him go. 

“I’ll send Ranboo and everyone out to your place,” Niki said quickly, “just give me time.”

Fundy numbly nodded. He couldn’t help but be horrified at George dying, despite knowing he’d be back when they got home. Maybe it was… wrong to get rid of them. Fundy was torn up inside, and he bid Nikli farewell and headed home. So Dream couldn’t die, George was able to respawn, and they were just at his house. He was never going to escape this, was he?

\---

Dream was home before Fundy, and when the fox got in the door, Dream was checking over George for any marks. He glanced up at Fundy, then back down at the boy in front of him. Fundy couldn’t help but think of the look in Dream’s eyes when he yanked the sword out of himself like it was nothing. Ranboo wouldn’t be able to take care of him, and George would just pop back into existence every fucking time they tried. Fundy had to be smart about how he got rid of them. Dream gently patted George’s shoulder while George sat there, looking like he was pissed, or pouting. Or both.

“You made her kill me!” George spat at Fundy, who shrunk back, ears flattening against his head. “Some friend you are!”

“We aren’t--” Fundy growled. “We aren’t friends! You invited yourself in when I didn’t want you here!”

“So? We’re your guests! And we care about you--!”

Fundy shook his head quickly. “Stop LYING to me! You’re doing this because you don’t have a fucking house!”

“Is it that crazy to think we like you, Fundy?” Dream asked, taking off his mask. Remnants of blood dotted his lips after he’d been stabbed. “That we want to be here?”

Fundy growled again, and he wanted to rip out his hair. “You two will never willingly be my friend! You guys always have some ulterior motive!”

Dream was stoic, while George looked hurt. Fundy pushed past them and into his room, slamming the door and locking it. He took a pillow off his bed, giving a scream of frustration into it and falling into bed. He pulled the pillow down from where it laid on the face, and narrowed his eyes at the words that appeared in front of him.

**Dream whispers to you: we actually do like you. a lot. we wouldnt be here if we didn’t**

Fundy wanted to scream all over again-- why were they lying to him? Why did he want to believe it? He sent a message back.

**You whisper to Dream: shut up and go to sleep**

**Dream whispers to you: it’s like five in the afternoon**

**Dream whispers to you: we havent even had dinner**

Fundy glared at the words, shooting back a message.

**You whisper to Dream: figure it out yourselves**

There was a delay, and one word popped up.

**Dream whispers to you: k.**

How could one word wound Fundy like that? It wasn’t even a word, just a letter. Still, he waited for the message to disappear and curled up in his bed, forcing himself to go to sleep. Everything was so confusing, the way he had been horrified to see George die, see Dream get hurt. He should’ve been happy, and he wasn’t. What was wrong with him?

\---

Fundy snapped awake to shouting.

“You’re burning it!” The noise came from the kitchen. George. “Take it off the heat, fast!”

“It’s not burned, it has flavor,” a cool voice replied. Dream. “It’s not even burnt. See? Just crispy.”

They were cooking. He hadn’t expected them to actually cook. They were going to set the place on fire. He jumped out of bed, running through the hall and to the kitchen, panicking. He had just built this place and they were going to burn it down. He got to the kitchen, looking at the mess that was now his kitchen. George looked over. “Ah, shit. You’re up. We’re-- we’re going to clean up!” He held up a pan with an oven mitt covered hand and showed off a somewhat burnt fish. “Surprise! We cooked dinner.”

“ _I_ cooked dinner,” Dream corrected as the pan was set down. “George just ate slices of bread while I got everything ready.”

“I would’ve helped, but I was very hungry,” George said as he turned down the heat that was up way too high. “I’m positive Fundy understands.”

Fundy walked over, looking into the pan and frowning. “You… did you not take the scales off it?”

“Are you supposed to?” Dream asked. “I don’t normally eat fish-- I’m a porkchop kind of guy.”

“I mean, it doesn’t hurt to leave the scales on, you can take them off, but I usually descale it beforehand,” Fundy frowned further. “What spices did you use?”

“Most of them,” George replied, “for the flavor.”

Fundy blinked. Were they actively trying to kill him? “Right…” He pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Why were you two doing this?”

“To cheer you up. Foxes like fish, right?” Dream questioned as he pushed the fish with a fork, poking it.

Fundy felt like he could cry all over again. It was very thoughtful, because foxes did like fish, but they had also burnt it and put every spice in his cabinet on the food, then called it good. Part of him wanted to believe this was another way to fuck with his feelings, but he shook it off, trying to remain optimistic just so he wouldn’t have another meltdown. “Well. Thanks.”

“Try it!” George said excitedly, taking the fork and prying the fish apart. It was luckily cooked enough that the scales parted rather easily. He took a forkful of the fish and held it up for Fundy. Fundy leaned in slowly, dreading this situation. It was like when a kid made you eat something they had made out of everything in the kitchen, only the kids were two grown men who he had crushes on. Great. 

Fundy took the bite from off the fork George was holding and forced himself not to gag. Oh, god, it was so overwhelming. What had they put on this? It was like an assault of flavor, and way more sage than necessary, too much garlic powder, and a fuckton of lemon. Fundy forced himself to chew, making a hum that he hoped didn’t sound too grossed out.

“Is it good?” Dream asked. Fundy slowly nodded, still chewing, noting there was a scale stuck in his tooth now. 

“Delicious,” he lied and pushed himself to swallow the mouthful, hiding a shudder that racked through him. It was disgusting.

“You should have more,” George prompted, the two of them completely unaware how awful their cooking was. “Because it’s good, yeah?”

Fundy cleared his throat, running his tongue over his tooth that the scale had gotten caught in. “I’m going to save it for later, I’m really full-- ate a big breakfast.” This was going straight in the trash. “But, really-- I appreciate it.” 

Dream smiled warmly at him. “It’s the least we could do after freaking you out-- sorry about that, by the way.”

Fundy shrugged. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“Well, you were sobbing on Niki before she rudely murdered us, and then you flipped out again when you got hom. I reckon that’s a big deal,” George said, reaching out to touch the sleeve of Fundy’s jacket. “We really shouldn’t have pissed you off so badly. We shouldn’t have gotten killed, sure, but we should’ve respected boundaries. We’re basically pros at taking the joke too far. ”

“Not that it was a joke,” Dream said quickly.

“Oh. Yeah. We were just…” George trailed off, trying to think of something to say that would make Fundy actually trust them. “We’re just touchy.”

“Extremely,” Dream nodded. “George has touched many men.” George gave a panicked noise, raising his hands up.

“I really don’t, I only touch people when they seem like they need to be touched, and most of the time it isn’t a man,” he said with a nervous laugh. “Not that there’s an issue with touching men, it’s just that--”

“George. Please shut up,” Fundy said, though there was no heat behind it, mostly just him trying to save George from the grave he was digging. George nodded as they all stared down at the fish, looking at the way it stared back at them with its dead eye.

“This is kind of gross,” Dream remarked.

“I don’t know how you eat these things, Fundy. They stare back at you while you eat them,” George said after another moment of silence.

“Which is why you remove the head,” Fundy explained. “So they don’t do that.” He stared at the fish a little while longer with them, Dream starting to poke at it more and more. No one stopped him. George, even as oblivious as he was, had realized that their culinary skills weren’t as great as they had thought. 

The fish was left abandoned and Fundy eased himself onto the couch, where Dream took his left side and George took his right. He sunk into the cushions and sighed heavily. It was obvious that the two were hesitant to be close to him after his breakdown over having his ears touched and the subsequent fight that followed. George broke the silence.

“So your ears are really sensitive?” he asked quietly. “I really didn’t know, I thought they were just… ears.”

Fundy nodded, tilting his head back and staring up at the ceiling. “It’s really overwhelming to have someone rub them.” _Not to mention I haven’t had a hug since before my dad went crazy, but it’s okay_. His eyes darted over to George and he studied him for a moment. His glasses had been taken off and now his brown eyes were revealed, his soft features all on display. He was very pretty, and Fundy tried to shove that feeling of affection down. 

“If I’m careful, can I touch them again? Not-- not now obviously, but--” George asked, faltering and trying to dig the hole he could never seem to get out of.

“Yeah, sure,” Fundy nodded, slumping down a bit. Dream was awfully quiet. Fundy looked over to him, and he was just staring. His mask was shoved up once again and his green eyes were so inquisitive, watching him, looking at him like he was a priceless work of art rather than a fox man who had spent almost an hour sobbing in a forest while walking home because he couldn’t handle simple affection and attention, as well as death. Fundy raised a brow, and Dream mirrored the expression. It brought a small smile to Fundy’s face and he rested his head on Dream’s shoulder without thinking about it. George shifted and leaned against Fundy, then spoke in a soft reserved tone.

“Is this okay? I can move away if--”

“Just stay there,” Fundy said as he closed his eyes. “I don’t care.”

“That isn’t a yes--” George mumbled as Dream wrapped an arm around Fundy’s shoulders, tugging him in closer, before manhandling the two into the position he wanted. He sprawled out on the couch and pulled Fundy to his chest, while George managed to cram himself between Fundy’s body and the back cushions. The couch was much too small for this, but no one said anything. 

Maybe it was fucked up, but Fundy didn’t fight being jostled into cuddling. He’d had to watch George die, and even though his last words had been anger towards Dream missing the shot, it was still scary. He didn’t like seeing the light leave George’s eyes, and he swallowed thickly as he thought of the blood that had spilled upon his soft lips. At the thought, he gently laid his tail over George’s body beside him, studying soft, almost asleep features. He didn’t want to see George die, it was so stupid.

George fell asleep first, and Fundy was nearly asleep when Dream spoke, his hand resting lightly on Fundy’s hair but not dipping in.

“I actually am sorry about the boundary crossing,” he said. “Genuinely sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Fundy mumbled.

“It’s not. You’re a person with feelings, I just get carried away.”

Fundy’s heart hurt from that simple sentence. “Don’t say that.”

“That you’re a person with feelings?”

“A sentence that makes me out to be more important than I am,” Fundy muttered.

Dream shifted Fundy and frowned. “Do you really think we hate you or something?”

“I think you two need a place to stay.” Fundy’s words were empty.

“Sapnap didn’t say no,” Dream said slowly, “I asked George specifically to come here.”

Fundy’s breath hitched. “Don’t-- don’t fucking lie to me like that, Dream, come on.”

“You can ask George, he’ll say the same thing.”

Fundy thought about the words, what they meant to him. He didn’t believe them at all, but it was nice to think that Dream would go out of his way, into the Dry Waters, into the Badlands, just to see a stupid fox man who liked flowers. “Well, thanks.” His voice was quiet and a bit dead. “I appreciate the sentiment.”

“You’ll actually believe me someday, you know that?” Dream cracked an eye open to look at Fundy. “Someday you’ll actually trust me, and George, too.”

“What happened to moving out?” Fundy asked, confused.

“We’ll stay as long as you want us to.”

Fundy closed his eyes, trying to ignore the feeling in his chest, the hope of that being true. He had needed to kill that feeling before it even started, and he hadn’t. Now it was coming back to bite him. George and Dream needed to leave, and fast. “Goodnight, Dream,” he sighed.

“Sleep well,” Dream replied.

And Fundy did, wrapped up between two warm bodies, and feeling safely unsafe in the den they had created.


	2. Chapter 2

When Fundy woke up two days from the death of one of his roommates, he awoke with a pain in his neck. The fox hybrid blearily blinked and adjusted to the darkness that still settled from a pre-dawn experience. He had fallen asleep on the couch again, this time alone, but could hardly register it, only knowing that George had been awake and Dream had been out on the farm. George was never awake this early. Never. His jacket was still on him, and now it smelled like a George _and_ Dream. Fundy idly lifted his left arm and sniffed at the smell. Vanilla and pine, gunpowder and dirt. He kept it on as he walked to his bedroom, only to find a sleeping GeorgeNotFound and Dream sprawled out on his bed. He had somehow migrated to the bed, and Fundy stared. What the fuck were they doing in his bed?

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Fundy asked, loud enough to wake them, only to get a groan in response and see George push his face into Fundy’s expensive pillows while Dream pulled the sheets over his head. He didn’t spend money on much, but goddamn he had blown a lot of on a nice, large mattress, down pillows, and Egyptian cotton sheets. “ _George. Dream_.”

George whined from where his face was shoved into the fabric of Fundy’s pillowcases, Dream was silent.

“Get out of my bed.”

“‘m’so comfortable, though…” came George’s muffled voice. “The couch hurts my back.”

Fundy rolled his eyes. “Didn’t realize you were such a princess.”

“He’s a _huge_ princess,” Dream finally spoke as he pulled the covers down a bit. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, Fundy could see his collarbones. What the fuck was going on, why was his heart twisting like that? Dream’s hair was a mess around his head, sticking up in places, and his green eyes, tired and hooded, met Fundy’s. Fundy felt like he was going to have a heart attack. “He sleeps so much and even when I wake him up when he asks me to he--” Dream yawned softly. “--he says I’m ruining his beauty sleep.”

“You’re ruining it right now,” George said, yawning as he lifted his head from the pillow, “you both are.” 

“Can you get out of the bed?” Fundy grit out, still not moved. They needed to get out of his bed “You’re going to get all your germs on the pillows and mattress.”

“You were smashed against me all night a couple of days ago, you already have my germs,” George grumbled. 

Fundy moved to a switch on the wall and flipped it, turning on bright lights. Dream groaned in pain, pulling the blankets back over his head, and George hid his face in the pillow further. “Get up. We have shit to do. You wake up at the time I do, now.”

“That isn’t fair!” George whined, picking his head up from the pillow. 

“Life isn’t fair. Get up.” Neither of them moved, so Fundy walked over and yanked the blanket off the bed. It was a mistake. George was curled up in Dream’s hoodie, the article being much too big for him, and boxers, while Dream was in only his leggings and socks. Fundy’s mouth was dry, and he stared for a little too long, long enough that Dream noticed.

“Like something you see, Funds?” Dream purred in his groggy, sleepy voice. This was like a bad dream. A bad, sexy nightmare. Fundy’s eyes snapped up to meet Dream’s, and he opened his mouth, just to close it. His head was fucking empty, only able to take in the sight of Dream’s toned stomach and abs, as well as George’s soft thighs that were on display. Why did god have to punish him like this? He tore his gaze away, a horrible feeling in his stomach.

“Please go get dressed,” Fundy said in a whisper, then forced himself out of the room and into the bathroom in the hall. He looked in the mirror at his burning face, red cheeks and neck, his wide eyes. The fox hybrid quickly turned the sink on and splashed cool water into his face. This was a fucking nightmare, and he chose to ignore how his body was reacting to that nightmare. He stared at his tired eyes and ran a hand through his hair in a panic, wanting to scream. He didn’t, but he wanted to.

When he exited the bathroom, George was in the living room with Dream, the smaller boy on the couch and Dream leaning against the wall, the two of them trying to wake up. Luckily, they were both clothed and in the _correct_ clothes. If Fundy found out that they had done something in his bed, he would go on a massacre, but he had a strong feeling they didn’t-- George would never. Fundy idly wondered how often they slept in the same bed. It was insane that his brain was starting to create scenarios, and he cleared his throat, making Dream blink his eyes open as George slumped into the couch.

“You two aren’t allowed in my bed again,” Fundy said in a stern voice.

“The couch hurts our back, and you were on it anyways,” Dream said as he stretched his arms.

“The couch sucks,” George added, despite leaning further into said couch.

“It’s a good couch,” Fundy defended.

“It sucks,” Dream replied in a tone of finality. “We either need beds, or we’re getting in yours.”

Fundy shook his head instantly. “No, no, that isn’t happening.”

“We can add a room to your house!” George gasped, going to search through his inventory and pulling out cobblestone. “It’ll be like a garage, it’s fine.”

“You two don’t LIVE here! You’re guests!” Fundy said in a shout, though it was whiny and pathetic. He could never win this battle.

“What about a shed?” Dream offered, green eyes gazing at Fundy. Fundy shook his head again.

“No, just-- no. You can’t do this.” Fundy’s nails were digging into the flesh of his palms without him even thinking about it. “Just stay on the couch, or even just leave!”

“I think we could make a nice shed,” George commented, not listening to Fundy’s cries of protest. “A little den.”

“Gamer den!” Dream said loudly, making George giggle and lift his head.

“No foxes allowed,” the brunette said.

“You’re making a shed on my property and not even allowing me inside it?!” Fundy questioned. “How is that fair?!”

“Uh, you said life wasn’t fair,” Dream pointed out.

“You actually did, Funds, sorry.” George smiled at him. “Maybe I can get you an invite into our shed. It’s kind of a V.I.P. experience. A bachelor’s pad.”

“Only the two bachelors are eyefucking each other whenever they can, huh?” Fundy said, raising a brow. George squeaked out a noise and shook his head, but Dream just chuckled, low and tired. “I saw you wearing Dream’s hoodie, George, don’t try and hide--”

“He looked good in it, didn’t he?” Dream interrupted, eyes dangerous. “Just like he looked good in your coat.” Fundy snapped his mouth shut-- of course Dream was siding with his stupid best friend, trying to get Fundy off track and make it easier for George. This was so stupid, they were just teaming up on him. His tail flicked angrily, and Fundy stared at Dream with a look of contempt. Dream raised a brow, and Fundy looked away, his face burning from just a simple eyebrow raise. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was supposed to be able to handle this kind of stuff, but as soon as Dream gave that smirk, or George smiled at him, he was down for the count. He couldn’t put his dukes up for much longer, not that he ever had. Fundy’s ears twitched, and he sighed heavily, going into the kitchen to start on breakfast.

“Just don’t tear up my flowers,” he muttered, not seeing the way George’s eyes lit up, but hearing the way Dream chuckled, triumphant.

\---

The shed was in production, and they had been nice enough to avoid the flowers. Fundy would watch from the windows as they stacked up their walls with whatever they could really find. Cobble, some dirt, some wood. It looked like shit, and it was ruining his yard, his nice yard. Fundy stormed out one day to snap at them not to deforest the whole place making a shed, but he stopped in his tracks. George had a pickaxe out, and he was tearing down a wall to make it bigger. That didn’t matter, it was what he was saying, or rather singing. They hadn’t been getting much sleep due to their grand plan of a shed, so he was sleep deprived as all hell, working into the night. Dream idly dug into the ground as George sang under his breath, then turned on his heel to face Fundy.

“ ** _I_** _know, I like to let excess succeed--_ ” George wasn’t good at singing, but the way he was looking at Fundy made the fox involuntarily step back. “ _But I just need you in that **fur** coat--_” Dream gave a shout of a laugh. “ _with only my necklace on underneath!_ ” 

Fundy blinked, trying to calm the heat rising up on his face as George continued.

“ _I don’t know wh-h-hy, this apartment’s always cold! London can tr-y-y-y-- it’ll never swallow me whole!_ ” Oh god, he needed sleep, Fundy could tell, and George inched forward, practically dancing as he did so, wildly swinging the pickaxe as he moved. “ _But I… swear…_ ”

Fundy swallowed.

“ _We could be gigantic! Everything I need! Vicodin on Sunday nights!_ ” He turned again and stepped towards Dream, the taller boy’s mask giving an amused expression with its smile. “ _This could be worth the risk, worth the guarantee, this could be the drug that never bites!_ ” He proudly stamped a foot down into the ground. “ _Just give me a try! Been kind of hoping you might--!_ Uh...” He went silent, then spoke quietly, giggling. “I don’t remember the rest, sorry.”

Fundy stood there, eyes wide and brows raised, and Dream burst into applause while George got into a tired fit of giggles. He went to lean against Dream, pushing his forehead into the man’s hoodie, grinning against the fabric of the coat.

“How long has he been awake?” Fundy asked as George stood there giggling.

“Too long,” Dream said in reply. “We’ve both been awake awhile, but I’m used to it. Mr. Narcolepsy over here can’t handle being awake for more than ten hours at a time.” He gently patted George’s back and looked to Fundy. “That was a valiant effort at the song, though, right?” He glanced down to George. “I think you could be the next hit star, the next big thing.”

“Shut up, Dream,” George laughed. 

Fundy felt like he was watching something so intimate, yet again. It was so common to see George and Dream all over each other nowadays, and he ached to be a part of that. He ached to be touched and held, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask for it. Fundy had never been good at asking for things until he really needed them, and he had a feeling he was getting to that point. That point in which he lost his shit and pleaded for a simple hug or a compliment. Dream and George were willing to do that, he knew it, but Fundy also knew what was coming in the future and that he couldn’t be attached to two guys who were going to be forced out of his home in about a week’s time. He stood there, and Dream beckoned him with a hand. Fundy didn’t even realize he was moving, that his legs were betraying him, until he was close to Dream and George. Dream pulled him into a crushing hug, one that Fundy melted into, a chitter working its way out of his throat.

“The happy fox noises!” George gasped. “They’re back!” He looked over at Fundy with a bright grin, and Fundy couldn’t help but feel that warmth of affection back in his heart. His poor, sleep deprived roommate was singing and basically acting like a drunk person. They really needed to get him to bed. Dream apparently thought the same thing, because he simply hoisted George up, the brown-haired man giving a shout of surprise as his much stronger friend tossed him over his shoulder.

“C’mon, drunky, it’s bedtime,” Dream said with a smile as he glanced to Fundy, the mask not covering his smile. Fundy liked seeing that smile, that soft smile. Sure, a crazy, bloodthirsty grin could be hot, but Dream’s genuine, gentle smile gave Fundy the worst butterflies he’d ever had. Not even butterflies, but beehives. Strong and buzzing in his stomach as he watched George weakly kick his legs, the sun shining down on them.

“I’m not drunk!” George squawked as he kicked again. “Put me down, we have work to do! The shed! It’s not done!”

“Off to the couch with you,” Dream said, starting to take a step in the house’s direction. 

“He can sleep in my bed,” Fundy said quietly, not wanting to repeat what he had said, but not wanting to be loud as he lost his pride from allowing George to rest on a nice mattress instead of the couch. The couch was kind of shit, it really was. He didn’t want George to wake up with a bad pain in his back-- _why did he care_? Why did he care if George got hurt or not? He didn’t like George. He didn’t like Dream, either. He hated both of them and they insisted worming their way into his heart like parasites. Little heartworms that would choke him from the inside, that would hurt him. He didn’t want them close, them being close meant they could hurt him, and he couldn’t handle more heartache. He was going to lose it if one more person he loved died or left, and he dwelled on that as Dream turned to him, smiling from underneath his mask.

“You’re too sweet to us, Fundy, really,” Dream said with a little purr in his voice. Fundy looked away, his ears flattening.

“You should get in bed with us, too!” George tried to look over his shoulder at Fundy. “Like a big slumber party.”

Fundy shook his head quickly. “Another time. I have things to do.”

He hadn’t outright said no, and he cursed himself for not telling George to shut the fuck up and go to sleep, ignoring the way Dream watched him with the gaze of his mask. “You’re so nice to us.” Dream reached out and stroked his thumb over Fundy’s right ear. Fundy felt like he could faint, and he watched Dream drag off George to the bed, watching the door shut. Dream would probably go to sleep, too. He looked to the shack they had built and frowned. 

It made his yard look ugly, he couldn’t have that. He didn’t care about the two being comfortable, he cared about his yard.

He set himself up as he dismantled the shack then started rebuilding it. Cobble became birch wood, dirt became glass windows, and Fundy’s heart became a little more fucked up. He was doing this for his yard, he tried to remind himself, not because he felt anything for Dream or George. 

Words popped up in front of him.

**Dream whispers to you: what’re you doing**

**You whisper to Dream: fixing the monstrosity of a shack you built.** He placed another chunk of wood down and started placing down a good flooring for the home. The words appeared in front of him and he stalled.

**Dream whispers to you: thanks, loverboy. i knew you’d warm up to gogy and i.**

Fundy swallowed.

**You whisper to Dream: i’m not fond of you, you were ruining my yard.**

**Dream whispers to you: I’ll have to pay you back for this**

Fundy’s breath hitched.

**Dream whispers to you: Have you ever been kissed**

Fundy’s head was spinning, his vision feeling like it’s going blurry. He could read the words though, and he scanned over them again and again until they faded.

**You whisper to Dream: that’s none of your business.**

There’s a small delay, and the words pop up.

**Dream whispers to you: I’ve thought about how I’d kiss you for a long time**

Fundy had to force his legs not to collapse from under him.

**Dream whispers to you: I’ve thought about a lot of things with you**

Fundy wasn’t sure of what to say, what to say back. His world is collapsing and strengthening at the same time. All he can think about is Dream’s lips, the scar on his bottom lip that’s on top of tanned, pink skin. He thought of George’s small, beautifully shaped mouth, the way he bites his lips sometimes when he’s thinking. He thinks of Dream holding him while George is in his lap. He thinks of Dream’s strong arms around him while George’s soft arms are cupping his cheek, gentle fingers stroking over his skin there. He thought of so many things, and then another message popped up.

**Dream whispers to you: i’m glad you took us in, you know**

Fundy was glad, too, and he hated that about himself.

 **You whisper to Dream: crazy what you’d do for a friend.** He wants to retype the word friend, say more. A lover, a partner, something amazing, a word that hasn’t been created yet. He wants to pluck letters out from his mind and make a word just for Dream and George, something no one else knows, something only for himself the other two. He can’t think, and Dream’s words pop up in his vision.

**Dream whispers to you: really close friends.**

Fundy knew what it implied, and he couldn’t get it out of his mind as he started up on making windows, placing each piece of glass carefully. When he finished the windows, another message showed up in his vision.

**Dream whispers to you: I’ll never get tired of you, you know**

Fundy wanted to cry at that. He wanted to cry like a scared little kid, one that’s apprehensive about the future, one that doesn’t know how to handle emotions or the weight of the world. He sat down at the base of the house, and he tried to type a message out, his fingers shaking.

**You whisper to Dream: everyone gets tired of me, you’ll learn**

The message popped up almost immediately, as if Dream was waiting for it to be said.

**Dream whispers to you: george and i aren’t everyone, and you’re not anyone. you’re fundy, and you’re one of the last few people that gets me and george, even though we’re fucked in the head.**

Fundy looked down at the pill bug that’s inching along the ground, and then back up when another message appeared.

**Dream whispers to you: i care about you more than you can comprehend.**

Fundy gave a shaky sigh. **You whisper to Dream: I know.**

**Dream whispers to you: good.**

They left it at that.

\---

Fundy spent the whole night building. He had a grand plan, but all he can think about is what Dream said. Despite it being a message, he can hear Dream’s voice in his ears. _I’ve thought about kissing you for a long time,_ The words mock him. _I’ve thought about a lot of things with you_. He wants so, so badly for it to be true, for Dream to kiss him, for George to want to even _think_ of kissing him. He’s nothing special, Fundy knows he’s nothing special, but he dwells on what Dream’s lips would feel like against his versus how George’s would feel. Dream’s lips looked a little chapped, and he wondered how rough they were, if Fundy would be able to feel a bit of harsh skin against his, if he’d be able to feel everything Dream could give him. He’d take anything. George’s lips would be soft, so gentle and sweet, probably smiling into the kiss from nervousness, probably backing out just to come back in. Fundy’s heart twisted and he tells himself over and over again that he doesn’t want this, that he never asked for this. Dream’s voice rings in his head.

_I care about you more than you can comprehend._

“I know,” Fundy’s voice broke the silence of the night. “I know, I know, _I know_.”

“What?” a voice says behind him. Fundy spun around to face them. Niki. Oh, god, he had forgotten about Niki, what her plan was. 

“What’re you doing here?” Fundy asked, but he already knew the answer.

“We need to plan to get this right,” she said with certainty in her voice, “Dream and George need to leave. I know you aren’t happy about them being here.” Fundy feels his chest twist for what seemed like the millionth time in the past two weeks, his emotions getting the best of him. Niki raised a brow at him. “You do still want to get rid of them, right?”

Fundy thought about Dream’s words. _I care about you more than you can comprehend._ He nodded hesitantly. “Of course I do.” He doesn’t. He doesn’t at all. He wants them in his bed with him, he wants them to lay with him until the world ends, he wants to dig his grave and mark it with the red rose Dream had had in his mouth, the poppies George had grabbed. He wanted so much, and it was killing him. His mouth opened to speak, and Niki stared at him. Fundy closed his mouth and shook his head. “Nevermind. What’s the plan?”

“Ranboo, Ant, and a few others-- they’re helping out to get Dream and George out of here. None of them want either of those two sociopaths in the Badlands.” Fundy wanted so badly to correct her that they aren’t sociopaths. Dream can’t be a sociopath, not with the way he smiles so sweetly and holds Fundy like he’s precious. Neither can George, with the way he sings when he’s tired, or bats his eyelashes when he wants something, knowing people will crumble because of it. They aren’t sociopaths. Like Dream said, Fundy understands their fucked up brains, he gets it. He has one too. “You’re going to need to lure them out somewhere, and we’re going to need you to fight, too.” Fundy can’t help but feel an immense sadness at the idea of hurting either of them. He had made a home with them, one they had invited themselves into, but a home nonetheless. He had been watching them build their shed, and Fundy turned to look at the newly built, almost done shed, and he swallowed. He looked back at Niki.

“I’ll do it,” he agreed, though his voice didn’t have its usual passion. God, he was a fucking monster. He was hurting two people who trusted him-- he was no better than his dad. Selfish, stupid Wilbur who went crazy with the idea of power, and now his selfish, stupid son who was going crazy with the idea of someone enjoying his existence. They were merely foils of each other, where the pictures didn’t come up exactly the same, but the thought was still there. He was his father’s son. It disgusted him.

“Good,” Niki nodded, then glanced to the structure behind him. “What’s this? It looks nice.”

“A-- it’s a shed for supplies,” he lied with ease, though his voice felt choked and clipped. “Figured I could put projects in it.” She nodded thoughtfully, and stepped forward, resting a hand on Fundy’s shoulder and gazing up at him.

“We’ll get you out of this, Fundy, don’t worry.”

Fundy nodded, numb and exhausted. He thought about how easy it’d be to crawl into bed with Dream and George right now, shove himself in the middle and forget about all of this. He glanced past Niki to the house, and paled at a smiling face in the window, a porcelain mask. Dream saw him. Dream was watching. He saw the tall figure dart from the window and away from it, and he looked back at Niki. “I-- I need to get back to this. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said with a small smile, “I know you’re busy, we’re just trying to help.”

“Thank you,” Fundy replied, “I appreciate it.”

She gave him a quick hug and then she was gone, back into the dark of the night. Fundy looked up at the structure he made, and he saw words pop up on in his field of vision.

**Dream whispers to you: come to bed.**

Fundy hated how domestic the sentence is, how much it means. If he went to bed, it’s game over. He will have lost and succumbed to it, to the feelings he harbored. 

**You whisper to Dream: I’m still working.**

There’s a delay, and another message pops up.

**Dream whispers to you: I don’t care, I want you near me**

Fundy can’t help the shaky sob that escaped him. It all hit at once, and it wasn’t just sad crying-- he was having a fucking panic attack. It was all hitting at once, and he was drowning. He was drowning in emotions. It’s all too much, it’s too fucking much. Fundy gasped with a sob and planted himself firmly on the ground, back against birch wood. His chest hurt, it hurt so badly. He couldn’t fucking breathe, and he sobbed again, kicking his legs like a child and pushing his hands into his hair, pulling at the strands. It’s too fucking much, it’s too fucking much, he can’t breathe, _he can’t--_

A soft hand rested on his shoulder, and Fundy jerked his head up with tears in his eyes. Dream’s strong hand is on him, and George stands beside him. The brown-haired boy looked like he was still stuck in a sleep haze, but concern was etched into his features. He stepped closer and went to crouch beside Fundy, who gave another shaky sob, shaking his head.

“ _I can’t-- I can’t--_ ” He struggled with his words, giving a cough as he gasped. Dream moved to crouch on the balls of his feet. He nudged Fundy and without saying a word, slowly started to show off slow breathing. Fundy stared for a moment, confused, then picked up that he’s supposed to copy that. Oh. Fundy took a shuddering breath in, then tried to hold it, only to sob it back out.

“Try again, keep going,” George encouraged softly, nudging him with his soft fingers. “Focus on my voice, yeah? Just focus on what I’m saying.” Fundy nodded weakly, gasping again, then retrying the action, his eyes darting over to Dream and watching him stand there with worried eyes. Beautiful worried green eyes, beautiful concerned brown eyes, both staring at him, praying he’d be okay. Fundy managed to get his next breath in a little better, and exhaled it slowly, closing his eyes tightly as he tried to sniff and regain his composure. They shouldn’t be seeing him like this, they don’t even know him, they don’t know a thing about him. No one does, and Fundy almost wanted to keep it that way. If he could keep everyone out, he didn’t have to trust anyone and therefore be betrayed. He wouldn’t have to rely on anyone else but himself, and he can always trust himself.

Or at least, he could, before Dream and George got involved.

Fundy’s breathing finally quieted down, and he rested his head against Dream’s shoulder, who had moved to sit beside him. The fox was exhausted, and he could feel George rubbing small, comforting circles into his thigh, over and over again. He closed his eyes, too tired to think.

“The shed looks really good,” George said quietly, “better than we could do.”

“Yeah. You did a really good job with the windows, Fundy-- I didn’t even think about windows,” Dream added as he nudged his nose into Fundy’s hair gently, Fundy making a soft noise in response, a little chitter of comfort, of happiness. He knew this would all end soon, but he was happy to have it while he could. He could just live in the moment, sit with them and pretend they were his, that they’d never go away.

Dream nudged him when he was starting to drift off. “Let’s get you inside, Funds. Don’t want you sleeping on the dirt.” Fundy felt himself be picked up into strong arms, and he hooked his arms around Dream’s neck, the blond holding him by the underside of his legs. George got up and trailed behind them as Fundy’s ears flicked while he nuzzled into Dream’s neck, breathing in the scent there. He smelled like Fundy’s nice shampoo, and gunpowder, some dirt, too. He had been using Fundy’s shit, gotten some of the fox’s scent on himself. Fundy couldn’t help but be proud about the scent marking, and he sighed softly, his eyes shut as George chuckled a bit.

“He looks so little in your arms, Dream,” the shorter boy said with a fond tone.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Dream replied as he walked across the yard, being careful not to jostle Fundy.

Fundy felt so safe, so nice. He was brought into the warm house, and Dream gently set him down in bed. Fundy didn’t release the grip from his neck, keeping his arms there, and Dream gave him a little nudge, trying to shake him off without disturbing him. “You have to let go if you want to lay in bed,” the blond said with a frown. Fundy shook his head. He was caving, he was fucking caving. The point had hit where he needed affection, care, comfort, or he was going to fucking lose it.

“Please get in bed with me?” Fundy asked. “Both of you? Please? We can just pretend I didn’t start freaking out on the front lawn just now, we can just…”

“Shh,” George hushed, “I reckon that we can lay in bed with you, it’s not going to hurt our already messed up, weird relationship.” He smiled and climbed onto the free side of the bed while Fundy reluctantly let go of Dream and curled up beside George. Dream frowned at the sight of Fundy in his jacket, his hat still on, basically still dressed. He started to work on untying the fox’s shoes and tossed them to the side when he was done, then went for Fundy’s jacket. Fundy felt a bit like a doll, being manhandled and dressed up, but he didn’t mind it. Dream didn’t touch his pants or belt, so Fundy did it for him, shimmying off his pants after getting the buckle undone. He could tell George was admiring his body, and the man idly ran his fingers over hairy legs, stunted by testosterone. He used to be as soft as a peach, and now it was a bit different. Fundy sighed softly as the fingers stopped at the bottom of his boxers, just resting there. Dream was working at getting his own tight pants off, ones that he’d thrown on in a panic, and George moved to whisper into Fundy’s ear.

“Look at his thighs, they’re so toned,” he pointed out as Fundy watched Dream struggle to keep his balance while trying to yank the pants off. “He’s kind of hot, isn’t he?” Fundy felt like a gossipy schoolgirl and turned, pushing his face into George’s neck from where he lay.

“Shut up, George,” he mumbled with a sigh, feeling a hand go into his hair, gentle, thin fingers going to scratch at his scalp in the best way. Fundy made a sleepy chitter and felt George’s fingers hesitate when they got to his ears. “Go ahead,” Fundy said, and felt George’s thumb stroke over his left ear, before starting to scratch at the base like you would a pet. Fundy gave another noise, pleased, and he tilted his head without meaning to, trying to chase the sensation. George bit his lip as he pushed his fingers in a bit harder, just studying Fundy’s blissful expression. Fundy opened his worn out eyes and gazed into George’s dark ones. 

They stared for a moment, just looking at each other. Fundy could see the pools of brown had a shine to them. George’s tongue darted out over his bottom lip, and Fundy swallowed as he felt the smaller man’s fingers just scratching at his ear idly. Gentle movements, over and over again, while they stared at each other. George’s fingers stilled for a moment, as his cheeks dusted themselves with a light pink. Fundy continued to stare, and his ear flicked as George’s fingers traced down, moved, then cupped his cheek. The brunette’s soft thumb traced over Fundy’s skin, and Fundy swallowed, gently pushing his face into the touch and letting his eyes fall shut as he sighed slowly.

“Are you two, like, okay?” Dream asked from where he stood, pants now off. “Do you need some time alone or something?” George quickly retracted his hand from Fundy’s cheek, and Fundy bit back a whine from the loss of contact. God dammit. He had been so close to living out his dumb, gay fantasy of being appreciated. So much for that. Fundy turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling as Dream got into bed, wrapping his arms around Fundy. “Sorry for ruining the moment, you two were just staring at each other like you were going to have an intense makeout session right in front of me.”

Fundy blushed, and his tail twitched from where it laid behind him. “We weren’t, of course,” he said, but George was silent beside him. He glanced over to the boy, but before he got a word out, questioning what was going on, George turned on his side, facing the wall instead of Fundy, and nuzzled into the pillow. Had he messed up somehow? Maybe it was that whole ‘I’m not gay’ thing that bothered George so much, so insistent on pinning himself as nothing but straight. Fundy frowned, and looked to Dream, who had his eyes closed, a leg hooked between Fundy’s own two, as if to keep him there, keep him from escaping. Fundy yawned and reached out an arm, going to rest it on George’s shoulder. As awkward as it was, he wanted to comfort George, and he really couldn’t with Dream acting like an octopus, pulling him close. George’s shoulders stiffened at the contact, then relaxed, and he hesitantly scooted back into Fundy’s touch. It took a moment of gaining the trust of a wild GeorgeNotFound, but with patience, George’s back was against Fundy’s side, and Fundy pushed his face into the back of George’s hair, nuzzling the soft strands.

This was so weird, he wasn’t sure if he was crossing a boundary or not, but George wasn’t pulling away, and Dream was already in sleepville, snoring softly. Fundy nosed his way into dark hair and tried to subtly inhale that scent of pine and vanilla, sighing softly. George shifted suddenly, turning to face Fundy, and in the dark of the moonlight, Fundy could see the apprehension in his eyes. The fear. He was fighting with some part of himself, laying in bed and just staring at Fundy while Dream slept peacefully next to him. Fundy felt like an experiment under that gaze, like George was searching for an answer in him. The fox carefully moved and went to do just as George had, placing a hand on his roommate’s cheek. George swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he stared, and he spoke softly.

“You have really pretty eyes,” George murmured, “even in the dark.”

“So do you,” Fundy said quietly, “I stare at your eyes a lot.”

“I know.” George’s voice was getting quieter, if it was possible. “I know you do.” His eyes darted down to Fundy’s lips, then back up. “I think we all do our fair share of looking at each other.”

“Yeah.” Fundy’s voice felt too big for the room, even though it was just a whisper. 

It seemed to happen all at once, with George leaning in, their noses brushing. Fundy froze up without meaning to, but George gently pressed his lips to Fundy’s, and Fundy’s brain went through a million thoughts at once. It wasn’t some passionate kiss of tongue and fury, Fundy didn’t even want that anyways. It was just an act of trust, an act of submission and care. Fundy pushed his hand up into George’s hair without meaning to, and he slowly turned his head as George gave a soft noise of appreciation. Fireworks were going off in Fundy’s head as he slowly moved his mouth with George’s, and he almost never wanted this moment to end. He’d never even kissed someone before, and he wasn’t even sure if George had either. It really just felt innocent-- two men feeling trust towards each other despite their situations. Fundy with his hard walls that kept people out, and George in his state of denial. It was everything meaningful, and all Fundy could think about was how soft George’s lips were, and then how he smiled into the kiss, and pulled back, bumping their foreheads together instead.

“G’night, Fundy,” George said softly, as Fundy sat there with wide eyes, as if he was shocked that had just happened.

“Goodnight, George,” Fundy replied, just as reserved. He offered a small smile and watched George’s eyes fall shut, only just now noticing how hard his heart was pounding. He shifted George slightly, and went to lay on his back, pulling the smaller man’s head onto his chest as Dream shifted his leg a bit and snuggled in closer, and Fundy couldn’t help but feel incredibly safe next to these two. Fuck what anyone said about them, they had shown him more care in less than a month than he’d ever felt in his whole life. The fact that in a few short days they’d be out of his home, out of his life-- the idea scared Fundy, and he made a plan as he closed his eyes and started to drift off.

He had to protect them from what was coming, he just wasn’t sure how, yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. some notes. first of all, the song george sings is 'give me a try' by the wombats, check it out, it fits the vibe of this story and the relationship super well. can't sleep love and give me a try are kind of this fic's songs, lol.
> 
> second of all, i don't intend to write sexual scenes in this fic, or on any fic i post on this account. i don't really write sex scenes anymore, because i'm a twenty year old dipshit who simps for minecraft men, not a horny 16 year old. if i do, they're more emotion based, anyways. i do, however, want to hammer home that gay/queer men are not inherently sexual and george and fundy in this are just kind of vibing, exploring themselves in different ways. fundy has walls, george has denial, and dream keeps them all together. there's not going to be mentions of sex outside of fundy thinking that george and dream are sexually attractive, because that's normal for a queer-coded man to do. either way, though, i hope you enjoyed this tender part of the fic, because the next chapter is kind of a rough one, lol.

**Author's Note:**

> so essentially i had to take a break from writing my other fic [as a result of trusting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28185660/chapters/69066216) because it was a huge drain on my mental health. i will get back to it, for those who care! but, this is my gay little fic that i wrote about fundy being forced to live with george and dream, stemming from the 'omeless situation with dream. hope you enjoy! i had to do multiple chapters just due to how long it was getting LOL.


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